we have always lived in the castle || draco malfoy

chapter thirty

"Please, Draco, tell me what's wrong," Charlotte pleaded with him back at 34 Pinelane Drive in their room. He was laying on the bed, moaning in pain. Charlotte had already almost cut his shirt off because he wouldn't stop screaming, "Hot! Hot!"

Now, as he rolled over, curling up in a fetal position, he began mumbling, "No one care! Everyone will be watching you.... Please don't watch me--"

"Get out of your head!" Charlotte screamed at him, bursting into tears as she grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "What's wrong with you?" Did he take something? She wondered. Did he need to go dancing again? Eat? Come to think of it, she couldn't actually remember the last time he ate a full-on meal.

For the first time in her life, Charlotte didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to cure this- she couldn't go into the forest and hunt for a cure like she did when Harry got scarlet fever. She couldn't whip something up-- not something that would do the same thing--

That's it. It was her own voice this time, that went off like a bell. That's what he needs.

Charlotte had always known from the beginning that Veela couldn't help but want to be around Muggles. They would want that connection, that energy so badly that they would adopt the mental characteristics of a Muggle. And as far as Charlotte knew, every Muggle was a pure nutcase.

She knew exactly what she needed to do.

She sent a patronus to Professor Snape, who immediately appeared within the minute at her doorstep with a sour look on his face. "What is the meaning of this, Ms. Potter?" he said monotonously as he stepped inside, sweeping aside his cloak from the ground. "Or do you prefer to go by Mrs. Malfoy?"

"It doesn't matter," she said, irritated already by the mere presence of the man in her house. "I need you to watch Draco for me while I get something for him." She led him to the master bedroom, where Draco was clenching and unclenching his fists erratically, his eyes squeezed shut.

Snape sniffed, looking down his hookish nose at the girl after observing the boy for a minute. "No potion will ail this-"

"I already know what to do, Snape," she snapped at him, her cloak in one hand and Floo Powder in the other. "Trust me, I know more about this than you do. I'll be back in an hour. He better be exactly where he is right now when I get back."

"Or else what?" Snape asked challengingly.

Charlotte gave him a hard look, her fangs twitching out of her mouth. His eyes widened a fraction at the protruded teeth. "Or else it's your head," she said matter-of-factly before disappearing up the chimney.

The doctor she met with thirty minutes later was in Muggle Los Angeles on the corner of Baker and Third. He was known for giving whatever it was asked for, from poppy flowers to the inside of coca beans. He was young, fresh out of college, and took an enormous liking to all things experimental.

He was, in short, a nutcase.

When Charlotte greeted him, shaking his hand, the first thing she said was, "Nutcases help nutcases, right?"

Dr. Gold smiled at her question, his blue eyes gleaming. He leaned back in his chair, responding, "Not always, but I hear this may be a special case."

"Yes, well, let's get straight to the point. My husband-"

Dr. Gold held up a hand, closing his eyes. "Woah, wait, aren't you sixteen?"

"Yes. And?" Charlotte asked, giving him an annoyed expression.

"And... You're married, British, and in America of all places to look for what? And without parents? I only specialize in legal adults."

"You certainly don't specialize in anything legal, do you?"